


One Saturday In September

by LulaIsAKitten



Series: Octavia Street musings [9]
Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-06-27 04:27:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19783246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LulaIsAKitten/pseuds/LulaIsAKitten
Summary: Autumn 2000.





	1. Cinema Trip

Nick and Ilsa strolled down Wandsworth High Street towards the cinema, hand in hand.

“Are you sure it’ll be okay that we didn’t book?” Ilsa asked. “It is the opening weekend, the film only came out last night.”

“Yeah, but it’s the afternoon. I’d have booked if we were going this evening.” Nick squeezed her hand fondly as they strolled, looking around. “I like Wandsworth, you know. Not been here much before. Perhaps when we buy, we should think about buying here.”

Ilsa nodded. “Yeah, I like it too,” she agreed. “Going to be a while before we can afford these prices, though!”

Nick nodded ruefully. They had just this week moved into a rented flat on the outskirts of Wandsworth together, on a year lease with an option to renew in six-month chunks afterwards. Nick had managed to get a rare day off work, and had borrowed his dad’s taxi to move his stuff and Ilsa’s from their separate shared flats to their new one together. Ilsa had cried a little as she said goodbye to Claire, who had laughed and told her not to be so ridiculous as they’d still be working together and Claire’s new flatmate was moving in at the start of next month, and then they had driven to their new abode to unload and unpack again.

Having their own space was bliss. They’d had a lazy breakfast at the little kitchen table this morning while they planned their day, with no housemates going back and forth or needing the kettle or occupying the bathroom.

Ilsa paused suddenly now. “Is that the queue?” she exclaimed. A long line of people snaked along the pavement and in through the main entrance of the cinema.

“Huh. I am prepared to admit that not booking might have been a bad plan,” Nick conceded. They joined the end of the line. They were a long way from the door.

Ilsa shivered a little. “I think it’s going to rain.” She looked anxiously at the sky, which was clouding over. London had been enjoying a late burst of summer, the latter half of September providing crisp mornings and glorious sunny days. She’d not brought a cardi to slip on over her summer dress, and didn’t have an umbrella, lulled into a false sense of security by too many fine days in a row.

The queue shuffled forward slowly. Nick craned his neck to see how far it was, and wondered if they would even get in to the screening they’d chosen. His hand held Ilsa’s, their fingers tangled together, and not for the first time he reflected on his luck at having her back in his life.

They idly discussed what to make for dinner later. The queue shuffled forward a little more. Finally they seemed to be getting closer to the door. The sky grew darker and a small breeze picked up.

Just as Ilsa began to think that they were going to make it, an usher appeared to announce that the screening for their film was full, and so only people who wanted a different film or to book tickets for a later performance should proceed. Even as the announcement was being made, the first few fat raindrops began to fall.

“Agh!” Ilsa squeaked as a splot of rain landed on her glasses lens. She pulled them off to dry them on the hem of her dress, and she and Nick ducked aside, out of the queue and under the smart steel and glass awning of the jeweller’s next door to the cinema. Ilsa dried her glasses and they huddled, peering out as more and more rain began to fall. Nick turned to face her.

“What shall we do?” Ilsa asked. “We could pop to that bistro over the road there, have a cheeky afternoon drink? Or book the next showing of the film?”

Nick dragged his gaze back from behind her and gave her a soft smile that was half cheeky, half tender. He put his hands on her shoulders and gently spun her around to face the glass frontage behind her. “Or we could get engaged,” he suggested quietly.

Ilsa stared at the display of diamond solitaire rings in the window, her heart hammering.

“I quite like that one,” Nick said, pointing over her shoulder. “But it’ll be your ring. Which do you like?”

Ilsa looked up at him. “Are you serious?” she whispered.

He gazed back at her evenly. “Completely, if you think we’ve waited long enough? We’re sort of engaged anyway...” He tailed off.

When he and Ilsa had first met up again earlier that year, Ilsa had been engaged to someone else. Determined never to lose her again, Nick had declared his intention to ask her to marry him almost as soon as their relationship was properly reestablished, but at Ilsa’s request they’d told no one and not bought a ring, agreeing to keep it between themselves for a seemly amount of time. That was five months ago, though.

Ilsa nodded, a little smile creeping across her face. “I think we’ve waited long enough.”

Nick grinned. “There you go, then. Let’s do that instead. I said I’d ask you properly in the autumn and get you a ring.”

Ilsa nodded again, shyly, her heart fluttering, and he grabbed her hand. Before she could think, they were in the door of the jeweller’s and approaching the counter.


	2. The Ring

Ilsa hadn’t chosen the ring Pete had given her. It had been his grandmother’s, and when they broke off their engagement she had given it back to him. Gazing now at the tray of solitaire rings, she only knew that she didn’t want something the same or even similar. She wanted this to be something special to her and Nick.

Once Nick had given an indication of which tray of rings and therefore which price bracket he was looking at (which had made Ilsa hold her breath slightly), they had been whisked away to the comfy chairs and offered coffees. Suppressing a giggle at being treated like royalty while she was wearing a casual summer dress and sandals, Ilsa looked at the tray and waited for her coffee. The rings were all lovely, but broadly similar. How was one supposed to choose? She wasn’t sure she wanted another solitaire anyway.

The smartly suited assistant returned with their coffees and began to talk about diamond cut and clarity. The words washed over Ilsa as she looked at the tray, trying not to think about what a sizeable chunk of their slowly growing house-buying deposit each one represented, feeling slightly ungrateful for thinking about the money rather than the ring.

She realised the assistant had stopped talking.

“What do you think?” Nick urged her, and she hadn’t heard the question.

“Um...”

She paused. What to say? What did she want? She could see how important this was to Nick, how much he wanted to get this right, and she had no idea what she thought.

Inspiration seized her and she turned to him. “Remember those earrings you bought me?” she asked in a low voice. “Way back, that first Christmas?”

He smiled softly at her. “I do.” He turned to the assistant. “Do you have any with aquamarines?”

The assistant nodded and bustled away again, taking the tray of diamond rings.

“Sorry,” Ilsa murmured. “They’re just all so...samey. I want something that’s us.”

Nick squeezed her hand. “You can have whatever you want,” he told her. “Have you still got the earrings?”

Ilsa nodded. “They’re in a box somewhere at mum and dad’s. I couldn’t ever quite get rid of them.”

Nick pressed her fingers with his. It was still a slightly painful subject sometimes, the fact that he had finished their young relationship before they went to their separate universities. She understood, now, why he had done it, though she hadn’t at the time. She had made her peace with it, but sensed that he still carried a level of guilt for hurting her, for the years they’d lost.

The assistant returned with a smaller tray. “We only have two,” he said, sounding regretful. “But we can have something made, swap a stone out of something else if there’s a particular style that you like.”

Ilsa looked at the rings. One was a single aquamarine, quite square and flat, a larger stone but not a shape that appealed to her. The other she knew at once was the one. The stone was a slightly greener blue, perfectly circular in its claw setting, with a little diamond either side. It matched her earrings perfectly, as far as she could remember, and Nick had bought those because they reminded him of the colour of her eyes.

“If it helps you decide,” the assistant said before Ilsa could speak, “the square one is a size M, but we could get it adjusted. The round one is a J, and you said that was your size?”

Ilsa nodded. “I love that one,” she said quietly.

The assistant picked it up and passed it to her. “Try it,” he urged.

Ilsa slid the ring onto her finger. It fit perfectly, and looked like it belonged there.

She looked up at Nick. He was watching her expectantly. “Yes?”

Ilsa smiled softly, nodding. “Yes.”

“We’ll take it,” Nick said firmly. Ilsa passed the ring back to the assistant, who disappeared in search of a box.

“Are you sure?” Nick asked her quietly. “I was happy to pay the price of the diamond ones.”

“I know. But that one’s...special. It means something to us. I can wear the earrings with it.” She smiled at him, wanting him to understand. The fact that it wouldn’t make as big a dent in the savings was just a bonus to her.

Nick grinned at her and nodded. “Then that’s the one,” he said. He got up and followed the assistant over to the till, sliding his credit card from his wallet as he went.

Ilsa sighed happily and gazed out at the rain which was teeming down now. It seemed incongruous somehow. On a day this momentous, this romantic, the sun should be shining.

Nick returned, grinning at her, the little bag in his hand. “Just have to propose now.”

Ilsa giggled. “You don’t have to propose,” she said. “It’s a joint decision, we’ve bought the ring together. It’s not like you’re surprising me with it. And you know I’m going to say yes.”

He laughed. “You’re spoiling it now,” he mock-complained. “Come on.” He grabbed her hand and she followed him out onto the street, a goofy grin on her face.


	3. The Proposal

“Come on,” Nick said again. They dashed across the street in a gap in the traffic, pummelled by the rain, and pushed their way into the bistro, damp and giggling, giddy. Nick pulled her by the hand up to the bar and ordered two glasses of champagne.

“Are you going to let me wear my ring?” Ilsa asked as the bartender started to open the bottle.

“When I’ve proposed and you’ve said yes,” Nick teased.

Ilsa glanced around nervously. The bistro was packed, people having abandoned their shopping to wait out the rain.

“Please tell me you’re not going to do it here,” she hissed. “Everyone will look at us.”

Nick pretended to be disappointed. “You don’t want an audience?”

“No!”

He smiled at her softly. “I’ll think of something. I’m kind of winging this, you know.”

“Really? I’d never have guessed.”

He pulled a face at her, and got his credit card out again to pay for the champagne.

There were no free tables, so they stood at the bar, sipping their champagne. Ilsa felt giddy even before the bubbles reached her stomach. The ring sat in its box in the little bag on the bar between them, next to their glasses and Nick’s wallet, and she fizzed with happiness and excitement.

“We’ll have to pick a date,” she mused.

“Next week?”

She giggled. “Don’t be silly. Next spring, we said.”

“I know. I just want to be married to you.” He tangled his fingers with hers as they drank their champagne, leaning forward to touch his nose to hers.

“Me too. But my mum will want to do the whole wedding thing. And so do I,” Ilsa added. “And you do too, if you’re honest.”

He nodded. “Yeah, and my family will want to do it all. Mum loved planning Hannah’s.”

“So when do we tell them all? Set the circus going?”

“Tomorrow? Let’s have tonight for us.”

Ilsa smiled. “Can we tell Corm? And Claire?”

Nick nodded, draining his glass. “Yeah, we can ring them later. Come on.”

Ilsa raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Where are we going?” She swallowed the last of her champagne while Nick picked up the little bag. He took out the ring box and slid it and his wallet into his pocket. He folded the bag and tucked it into a back pocket.

“I’ve had an idea.” He grabbed her hand again and they made their way to the door and plunged back out into the rain.

They set off up the street, Nick in his shirt sleeves and Ilsa in her summer dress, the late summer rain falling all around them. Within five minutes they were both drenched.

“Where are we going?”

“There’s a park round here somewhere, I know there is.”

“Um, can’t we just go home? We’re soaked.”

He grinned at her. “Can’t get any wetter, then. I want to do this properly.”

“By drowning me?” But she didn’t really mind. Champagne fizzed in her stomach, his hand was warm in hers and his enthusiasm was infectious. Giggling, she trotted along next to him as he strode down the pavement and turned down a side street. Sure enough, they came to the gates to St George’s Park.

“Um...” Nick looked around. The park was deserted in the rain.

“Before you do it,” Ilsa said suddenly. She pulled him across to a nearby bench and they sat.

“Ugh, turns out my bottom could get wetter,” she giggled as water soaked through her dress from the bench seat. Nick grinned and nodded. “What’s up?”

Ilsa hesitated. Her giggles died and she looked at him.

“I know we’ve talked about this before,” she began slowly. “But this is... This is the beginning, right? The beginning of the rest of our lives.”

He nodded, puzzled.

“So I’d like you to let go of the past.”

“What do you mean?”

“You still feel guilty about dumping me.”

Nick winced. “When you say it like that I do, yeah.”

Ilsa chuckled a little. Rain ran down the back of her neck, dripped off her elbows where they were bent, her hands holding his as they sat half-facing one another.

Earnest now, she gazed at him. “Whatever we call it, you feel guilty.”

“I hurt you.” His face was full of regret. “I explained myself badly and you spent years not really understanding why I ended it. But I’m going to spend the rest of our lives making it up to you.”

Ilsa shook her head. “I don’t want you to.” She paused, trying to get her thoughts straight. Rain had obscured her glasses so thoroughly, she could barely see him through the distortion of the drops on the lenses. She pulled them off and tucked them into her bag, turned back to him, found his eyes with hers.

“We have no way to know what would have happened if we’d tried to stay together,” she said slowly. “We were so young, Nick. I’d never...been with anyone else. And we were so far apart. The pressure might have come between us, made either one of us resentful, caused arguments—”

“Or we might have had six more years together that we can never get back.”

“Yes, but we might have split up worse, and for good,” she said quietly. “We won’t ever know. But what we can’t do is go into the future unequal.”

He gazed at her. “What do you mean?”

“We can’t spend the rest of our lives with you feeling you somehow owe me something.” Ilsa sighed, frustrated. “I don’t know how to explain what I mean. We have to start afresh, equal, no guilt or blame or anything.”

She squeezed his hands. “I’ve come to terms with it. I understand, now, why you did it. And I think you were right to do it. We’re older now and wiser and it’s a more grown-up choice we’re making.”

She reached up and ran a hand through his slightly receding hair, giggling a little as the water she dislodged ran down his face. His shirt was plastered across his shoulders and arms, soaked though.

“You were right. I forgave you for it ages ago. But you have to forgive yourself. It wasn’t just me that was hurt, it was you, too, and we just need to accept that and go forward.”

Nick nodded, squeezing her hands. “I’ll try,” he promised.

Ilsa sat back, grinning. “You have to do better than that.”

He laughed, the earnestness of the moment broken. “Okay,” he acknowledged. “I’ll stop beating myself up about it.”

“Good.” She wrinkled her nose at him. “In that case, you can go ahead and propose to me now.”

Nick chuckled, looking around. “Here?”

“Here will do.”

He grinned at her, pulled the ring box from his pocket, slid off the bench and down onto one knee. Ilsa started giggling helplessly.

“Nick, you’re kneeling in a puddle.”

“I know, and it’s very wet and cold, so if you could try to take me seriously for two minutes, I’d like to get on with it.”

She forced her face straight. “Sorry. Do go on.”

He shook his head fondly, his eyes full of love, and opened the box. “Ilsa...” He hesitated. “I know I’m supposed to have a whole speech, but I didn’t really plan this. I love you, more than I could ever tell you. Whatever happened in the past, I’m just the luckiest guy in the world to have you back in my life, and I want to be with you for ever. Will you please marry me?”

Tears she hadn’t expected brimmed in Ilsa’s eyes as he spoke and spilled over to join the raindrops on her face. “Yes,” she whispered, her voice choked up.

Smiling, looking misty himself, Nick took the ring from the box and slid it onto her finger. It slipped easily into place, and Ilsa gazed down at it, happiness swelling in her heart, fit to burst. She looked back up at him, and he grinned at her and kissed her, putting the box down on the bench and sliding his hands into her wet hair. They kissed and kissed, tears and rain mingling, the cold and wet forgotten.

Long minutes passed as they kissed, and then Nick gently drew back and pressed his forehead to hers. “I love you,” he told her.

“I love you too.” She slid her hands from his shoulders to his chest. The aquamarine glinted on her third finger.

She looked from the beautiful ring to her fiancé’s eyes, and grinned at him. “Can we please go home now? I’m getting cold.”

“ _You’re_ getting cold? I’m still kneeling in a puddle!”

Giggling, Ilsa stood and pulled him to his feet. “Let’s go home and dry off.”

“And go out for a celebration dinner?”

She nodded. “Sounds perfect.”

He tucked his arm around her, and they turned and left the park.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be a one shot but drifted long so I split it into chapters. Chapter 4 looks like it might be getting smutty, do we want a ratings hike and post that, or leave them here all General Audiences rated and fluffy?


End file.
